


Devil Is Comin' For Your Soul

by Anonymous



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Fright Night (2011), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blood Drinking, Consensual Underage Sex, Credence is 16 ok, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, First Time Blow Jobs, Graves is approx. 300, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kissing, Las Vegas, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Religious Conflict, Religious Guilt, Rimming, Running Away, Touch-Starved, Underage Drinking, Vampire Original Percival Graves, fright night au no one asked for from me, vampire allure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 02:25:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9153424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Credence is surprised to find a man staying in the Brewster's house, and he says he's a friend of the family's.He goes over hoping to find his friend but instead finds something entirely unexpected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whileyoustillcan (L_M_Biggs)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_M_Biggs/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Let's Die A Little](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9143695) by [L_M_Biggs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_M_Biggs/pseuds/L_M_Biggs). 



> hey look its me with more sin and less of the actual work i need to be doing aka the victorian AU

Credence had finished his homework early _again_ , and when he asked his ma if he could run across the street and see if his friend Charlie, his only real friend in the entire world, was free to play, she’d barely acknowledged him, seemingly halfway through her daily bottle of wine already, nodding at him, or maybe Wheel of Fortune on the television.

So he ran, looking both ways first of course, only halting midway up the sidewalk when he realized the black truck in the driveway didn’t look a thing like the usual blue coupe that sat there. When had the Brewster’s gotten a new car?

Still he pressed on, walking up to the familiar front door, and knocking briskly.

The door opened and revealed a man not much taller than him, broad shouldered and somewhat squarely built, with dark hair and heavy eyebrows that knitted together at the sight of him.

Credence blinked, and tried to remember what he’d been about to say, but words were currently failing him, and he continued to stare, drinking in the sight of the muscles revealed due to the man’s fitted gray tee shirt and black lounge pants.

“Can I help you? Are you selling something?”

Credence jerked his eyes back up to the man’s slightly smirking expression, locking with his own dark gaze, and he felt his cheeks warm,

“Uh, can Charlie come out and play?”

The man licked his lips, and shrugged,

“Sorry kid, Charlie isn’t here right now. I’m house sitting while the Brewster’s are out of town. Some kind of family emergency.”

Credence felt reality seeping back into his veins, as he remembered a cryptic text he’d gotten the other day from Charlie, and he’d said something about how he’d be out of school for a couple weeks.

He had thought it was just a stupid prank, or he’d faked being sick or something. Apparently not.

“Oh. I’m sorry, I’ll just, go, then.”

He backed away from the door and started to turn away, but the man spoke again,

“You’re welcome to come in still; Charlie couldn’t take his Xbox with him to his grandparent’s house.”

Credence looked over his shoulder at the man, who was wearing a bemused smile still,

“Are you sure? You wouldn’t mind?”

The man chuckled and shook his head,

“Not at all. If you want, if you get tired of playing alone, I’ll join you. I like a fair bit of competition, I’ll warn you.”

Credence swore the man winked at him, and he felt a strange sort of pull to return, to do as he was told he could, to step inside.

“Okay. Maybe just for a little while.”

The man shrugged,

“Sure, whatever you want kid.”

“It’s Credence.”

The man smiled, and moved out of the doorway so he could enter the house,

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Charlie didn’t tell me much about you, he’s a quiet one. I’m Percival Graves. You can call me Percy if you want.”

The door closed behind Credence a bit harder than he was expecting and he jumped slightly. It reminded him of when ma would throw empty wine bottles at him, and he’d have to dodge them.

“You hungry?”

The man, Mister Graves, was asking him, as he walked over and sat down on the couch and carefully went through the procedures to start up the game system, loosely holding a controller in hand.

Credence glanced over to see the man tossing a bright green apple between his two hands, one dark brow quirking on his forehead, awaiting his reply.

“Uh, no thank you. I just had dinner.”

Mister Graves shrugged again, and set the apple back down on the counter,

“No problem. I’m always hungry. Little snacks are all that keep me sane between meals.”

He winked, definitely that time, at Credence, and he ducked his head, looking back to the television screen, unsure what exactly he was doing, invading this man’s space, just to play a dumb video game?

The music started up, and Credence started flipping through options, choosing his character and weapon and he started again when Mister Graves came up behind him to put a large hand on his shoulder,

“Hey, are you all right?”

He swore he could hear the man inhaling deeply, and he gulped,

“Yeah I was just gonna ask if you really wanted to play too, I can set up the game that way…”

Mister Graves squeezed his hand, and sent a jolt of shock down Credence’s spine,

“Please do. You’ll need to tell me how to play. I have never used one of these things.”

Credence gaped at him as he moved around to sit down next to him on the couch, his larger body suddenly pressing very close to him.

He felt nervous, having all of the man’s attention on him, and his hands were shaky as he passed over the second controller.

“Mainly, try to avoid getting shot and dying. It means you’ll lose points, even though you immediately re-spawn. The goal is to kill the most people, until you get the golden knife. Then you have to sneak up on someone, and kill them with the just the knife to end the round.”

Mister Graves smirked,

“Sounds like a bloodthirsty kind of game. You don’t look very dangerous… do you win often?”

Credence flushed at the assumption, and shrugged,

“I do well enough, but usually Charlie gets the knife first.” He couldn’t help admitting.

“Ah-ha, I knew it. Secretly you’re a big softie.”

Mister Graves knocked his knee against Credence’s and when he glanced over at the man he was smiling, but gentler, as if to let him know he was merely teasing.

*

Oh man, did the man on high sure have a sick sense of humor.

Percival couldn’t believe the tempting little morsel that had wandered over to his current place of residence, and no, he wasn’t house sitting. He was squatting.

The Brewster’s had gone out of town, but not first without proclaiming it loud and proud on their social media they’d be leaving for over two weeks to arrange a funeral service and maybe do a bit of sightseeing. Cold hearted, and that was coming from someone without a heart at all.

Not to mention they were really stupid.

They didn’t even have salt, real silver or a crucifix anywhere in the house or on the property. Strolling inside the front door hadn’t hurt him one bit, and he’d even had a good laugh when not one single neighbor called in the strange car in the Brewster’s front driveway. So pathetic, so trusting.

They all assumed he belonged there, so he’d cooked up a story in case anyone came knocking. Boy had they.

First the housewives home while their husbands worked hard or worked over their cute little assistants hard, and the plates of cookies and promises of company if he ever wanted it. Then the kids asking about Charlie, when would he be home, did he want to come to so-and-so’s birthday party?

Didn’t these kids have cell phones? Why were they running around outside? The world was to be found on the internet, so it seemed.

The world had changed so much, so fast, in the last two decades, it almost made Percival’s head spin. He couldn’t say he minded it. More and more, the nightlife was becoming the best time to go out and feed, while everyone was stuck indoors playing on their little machines, or out at the gyms, wrestling their big machines.

He could definitely see the appeal to the video games, as he watched Credence bloom to life right in front of him, falling into the role of team leader, and warrior extraordinaire. He didn’t look the type at all, skinny of frame and with hair that needed a trim, he seemed more like the one to be weighted down with science or math books, huddled in a corner somewhere, avoiding the fists of the closest bully.

Percival didn’t mind his company, not at all. Not when he walked in, smelling of fear and curiosity, and the most tempting aroma of all, innocence.

Oh, he looked delicious, seemed to bleed it, and would certainly be a tasty mouthful indeed.

The first time he finished a round successfully, and dropped the controller to clap his hands and let out a whoop, Percival gave him a winning smile and decided, yes, he’d be willing to wait, to put in the effort, and properly seduce him, with a touch of _allure_ , but only enough to make it feel less like cheating and more like persuading.

“Do you want anything to drink? Killing all those bad guys probably works up a thirst, right?”

He grinned, and the boy nodded, cheeks flushed from exertion and effort.

“What do you want?”

He leaned closer, just enough until he saw the boy’s eyes widen, and he could inhale a new lungful of his scent.

“Just iced tea, if you have it.”

Percival got to his feet in a move so swift he knew the boy would have thought he imagined it.

“This is the south; we always have iced tea ready for our guests.”

The outskirts of Las Vegas could probably just _barely_ qualify as ‘the south’ but Percival wasn’t concerned with specifics. Not when he had the attentions of such a sweet and charming guest.

“Thank you.”

The boy accepted the chilled glass gratefully and drank so long and so deep, Percival found himself wondering if the boy might have been lying about having had dinner. He acted like he hadn’t drunk anything in days. Percival tried not to stare, but he couldn’t help watching the pale neck, how his throat bobbed as he swallowed, and he clenched his fists at his side, prepared to tear into an apple to help distract himself.

So he did.

The green flesh parted easily beneath his sharp teeth, and he could feel his fangs itching to slide down, to properly devour the fruit, but he had to be careful, had to avoid too many awkward questions, even if the boy wasn’t paying very close attention to his eating habits.

“Sorry, I guess I didn’t realize how thirsty I was.”

The boy was setting the empty glass down on the table in front of him, and looking extremely regretful, as if he’d done something terrible, committed an awful crime to insult Percival.

“Don’t worry about it.” He waved a hand around, and then returned to his spot on the couch beside the boy, letting his free arm rest on the back of it, just shy of grazing the boy’s shoulders.

“Why don’t you handle this round on your own, my hands aren’t free yet.”

He winked at the boy and took another large bite of the apple, pulling back to ensure he caught any escaping juices with his tongue.

The boy’s eyes traced the quick movement, before darting away, back to the screen, and his cheeks filled with a fresh rush of blood as he blushed.

Percival could feel his mouth watering, even around the piece of moist apple flesh on his tongue.

He snapped his teeth closed and tried to focus on the fruit, ignoring the growing urge to just pull the boy in his lap and dip down to kiss his neck before biting him, and feeding properly.

It was very difficult.

The happier the boy got, playing his silly game, the more inviting he smelled, and the longer Percival stared at him, the faster he ate the apple, until it was a thin smidge of a core, and he tossed it aside, returning his focus to behaving, and not, just a little, by dragging his arm down a bit, finally making actual contact with the boy’s shoulders.

The boy, Credence, Percival reminded himself, had noticed.

He gave a little jump, and shrugged slightly, but didn’t actively try to escape the arm resting on him.

“How’s it going?” Percival finally asked, his voice low and a bit raspy, due to his immense concentration devoted to just resisting the siren call of Credence’s blood.

He hadn’t once glanced away from the pale skin and dark hair curling just slightly around the boy’s ear, so the numbers on the screen were quite meaningless to him.

“Good. I’m up by ten points. The round is almost over. I’ll have to go then. I can’t be out past dark, by much.”

Ah.

That was unfortunate.

“I understand. But you do want to come back sometime… right?”

He was tracing his hand over the shoulder and arm he could reach, while his other hand finally made contact with the strand of hair he’d been so bewitched by, and he could feel Credence inhale sharply.

“Yes. I do.”

His fingers moved like a flash over the controller, and he was biting his lip in concentration, so hard it that it looked like it might bleed, and Percival knew then, the sweetest torture would indeed be letting the boy come to him, letting him make the first move. It was only proper.

He wasn’t there to cause chaos and wreak havoc. Las Vegas was just a stop on the way, on the tour of the United States.

Such a limited amount of time he would have, he hoped it would be worth it…

*

Credence wasn’t used to such attention, and the way the man sat beside him, no longer indifferent or even with any real amount of space between them, was doing a real bit of work on his mind. He could hardly even think about what he was doing in the game, and he barely avoided dying several times during the final round, but maybe it was because he was on such high alert, due to the two points of forbidden contact on his body that he could still continue to play.

He had to dodge and avoid things in real life all the time, so what was one more challenge?

When the man touched just beside his ear, tucking a stray bit of hair behind it, he bit his lip so hard it bled to keep from shivering, and leaning in to the contact, words choking in his throat, wishing he could beg for more.

It was wrong.

Wrong.

Wrong.

Hadn’t he been to enough sermons on Sundays to know such a thing? To know that whatever he was feeling, be it from lack of personal contact with his family or from friends or peers, was sinful, and could only lead to eternal damnation?

Never mind the fact that drinking to excess was also a sin, but his ma did that every day, except Sunday, and sometimes two bottles on Saturday.

She’d left him to raise his two sisters, even though the elder one, Chastity, could more than manage without him, and often told him so.

Living next to such a haven of sin and iniquity was often a subject Credence thought of asking his ma, if she ever got to such a sharing mood, through a full bottle of wine or not, why of all places in the world, had she chosen such a house and neighborhood?

Then again, she’d probably say something about how it was perfect _because_ of all of those that needed saving.

Going to church every week didn’t seem to do her any more good than it did Credence or his sisters. Reading daily from the bible, before and after breakfast and before school was fruitless to no end as well, and Credence often merely pretended to read, or skipped to the most interesting of bits, the more racy portion of the good book, that seemed to lovingly describe carnal acts, when between a man and a woman.

No wonder anything else was thought of as an abomination. It was a completely one sided look at love.

Though he knew his ma would long be asleep in front of the television, empty wine bottle fallen from her hand or still clutched within, it was time to go.

Leaving behind the warm and welcoming atmosphere he always felt in the Brewster’s house, even when they themselves were not there, it seemed, was extremely difficult, but for the best.

“Thank you for your hospitality Mister Graves. I hope I can pay you back in kind some day.”

The man more than walked him to the door, he walked halfway down the sidewalk, and continued on, only when he came to Credence’s own front door did he stop, poised at the threshold and smiling slightly.

“It was lovely to have you. You’re excellent company. I’ll be sure and tell Charlie that you came by. I’m sure he’s bored to tears where he is.”

Credence nodded, and then stepped back, preparing to shut the door, until he heard the man cough, and he glanced back to him,

“Credence, you know that, if you get bored of playing those games, we could always watch a movie or something… your choice.”

A spear of heat slid down his spine at the idea, and Credence could instantly picture sitting on that same couch, with the man beside him, both arms around him, just holding him close as they did just that. Or maybe he’d let him fall asleep on his lap, and awaken to a gentle hand in his hair, stroking it back from his forehead like his ma used to…

But no.

He hadn’t felt anything like that, in so long. There was a severe shortage of kindness and affection in his life that he didn’t have to work for or seem to end up paying for in the end.

So he couldn’t think of anything he’d want more, even if he shouldn’t have wanted it in the first place. He found himself nodding and he watched as the man smiled again,

“Great. All right run along now. Wouldn’t want you getting in trouble because of me.”

Another wink, and the man was striding off, strong legs taking him purposefully back to the Brewster’s house, and Credence couldn’t look away, not until he’d disappeared inside, and he realized he’d just heard the thump of a bottle hitting the carpet.

Ma was awake.

He sighed, and shut the door, before dropping his hands to his waist, methodically undoing his belt and walking into the living room.

“Do you know what time it is?” Her words were slurred, and her eyes bleary, but Credence did, and he almost wanted to say he didn’t plan it or mean to, but nothing mattered, not when she had the idea in her head he’d committed a crime against her, and needed to be punished for it.

*

The scent of fresh blood in the air was the first thing Percival noticed a couple days later, even before the boy had crossed the street to knock on his door. So polite, it killed him. The tang of fear and hurt and desperation called out to him from even behind the walls of the house. He clenched his fists, and fought very hard to keep from just going over and snapping the bitch’s neck, ending the torment for the boy.

Credence would have fit in so well a handful of decades back, running around the small neighborhoods and knocking on doors, trying to collect money for good causes or preaching the word of his good book. He smiled slightly, imagining just how fun it would have been to corrupt him if he was more outwardly religious. Oh the teasing he would have endured, and how delicious it would have been to make him scream.

But no. The boy coming to him now was far more delicate, fragile, and almost broken by his own blood family. That would not do.

Not at all.

He answered the door to find Credence shaking, and cradling his hands against his chest, wrapped in poorly done bandages, redness already seeping through the white gauze.

“Fuck. Get in here.”

Percival had usually even less patience for wounded creatures than he did helpless ones, in fact, he felt as if they were too easy, and always left them be, in search of a more challenging feed to kill.

But here, in front of him, the boy was presenting little to no threat, and all he wanted to do was protect him, shield him from the true monster that seemed to haunt his home, and take him away from it all, ensure that no one would ever harm him again.

The Brewster’s had a complete first aid kit in the first floor bathroom, and another smaller one upstairs. It would probably go less noticed if he broke into it, so he ran to retrieve that one. He was back at the boy’s side in seconds, and he suspected he hadn’t even known he was gone.

His shoulders were shaky, and he seemed to be fighting the urge to cry.

“It’s all right, let me see now.”

He tugged gently on Credence’s sleeve, drawing him over to the kitchen sink, where he undid the gauze and thoroughly washed the open wounds, some still bleeding, though they weren’t fresh as he’d thought at first, on his palms and the back of his hands. Maybe he was just really damn thirsty.

“What was it? Who did this to you?”

He already knew. Of course it was the mother. It always was.

Credence shook his head, and just gasped out,

“A belt.”

Even thinking the name of the supposed god above was annoying, not painful, just a hindrance, so Percival merely rolled his eyes.

“Okay.”

He methodically cleaned the wounds, dried them as carefully as he could, and applied healing ointment and then wrapped them up again, so tight they would staunch any new bleeding and keep the skin safe from further injury.

Playing video games was more than out of the question in his condition, so it appeared the movie night had arrived, a bit earlier than he’d anticipated.

“Now, pick whichever you want. I’ll throw a pizza in the oven... er call in and order one, if you like. Don’t lie to me. Don’t tell me you already ate.”

His voice had fallen to a growl, and he couldn’t help the anger that pulsed through him at the thought of Credence suffering further mistreatment, so he almost missed the way the boy’s breath caught and his eyes widened, before he hurried to reply, to obey.

“Yes Mister Graves. I’m sorry I did before.”

He couldn’t help softening his gaze when he saw the way the boy looked, skittish and nervous as a newborn colt, eyes darting to the massive shelves of movies and cd’s.

His heartbeat was thundering so loud it was a wonder he could even hear anything Percival was saying. It made him want to pull the boy into his arms and hold him until he’d fallen asleep, or finally relaxed, whichever came first.

“Run along. Pick something. I’ll place the order.”

He gave the boy a meaningful look, and he hastened to do as he was told again, before Percival walked back to the kitchen, and plucked up the little house phone, dialing almost from memory.

As he split his time equally between nights in Vegas and days in the house, he’d had to rely on human food as much as his feeding, and it worked out fairly well. Once he’d fed enough on blood, he could properly enjoy a bit of human food and not get sick from it. He couldn’t wholly sustain on it, but it was rather like a treat for him, beyond the necessity of blood.

Once he returned to the living room, he found Credence struggling with trying to open the movie case, and operating the controls for the player and television were amusing to watch, but pointless. He needed help, but seemed to be very resistant to asking for it.

“You are adorable, you know that? Stubborn, but cute.”

He stalked over to the boy, and plucked the plastic case out of his clumsy wrapped hands, and smoothly extracted the disc to pop it in the player, and snagged the remote before the boy could drop it.

“Th-thank you. Sorry I couldn’t quite get it…”

There he went again, apologizing unnecessarily for things out of his control.

“Sit down, go on. Tell me, why’d you pick this one? Have you seen it?”

He nodded.

“Once, a long time ago, before we stopped going to movie theaters. It was my favorite.”

Science fiction genres were always entertaining, and the story of the monks who fought with sword’s that seemed to be made of channeled lightening had been extremely popular in the last few decades.

Well perhaps that was an oversimplification.

Still, it was entirely pleasant to watch Credence as he enjoyed the movie, hardly once glancing away from the screen, but to retrieve his piece of pizza, which he mostly nibbled at, polite to the bitter end, it seemed.

“Are you still hungry?”

Percival found himself asking, even as the end credits for the movie played, the music incredibly well designed and still hypnotizing enough though nothing exciting was happening on screen.

“Oh no, thank you.”

“Thirsty?”

Lying or not, the boy had barely eaten a whole piece and a half of pizza, and there was little chance Percival would be able to stomach the entire rest of it.

“Yes please.”

He smirked at that, and then scooped up their empty plates and the still half full box of pizza to place it in the fridge and the plates in the sink, before returning with two glasses and one bottle of hard cider. He would be happy to provide just water or milk or tea for the boy, but he also deserved a bit of a treat. The total bullshit he’d endured already was still pissing Percival off, and he needed to be distracted.

A tipsy Credence would certainly do more than just that.

“What’s that?”

Percival had already popped off the cap and poured them a half glass each, as much as the bottle had contained,

“It’s like apple juice, but for grownups. You’re what, sixteen, seventeen? Practically a grown up.”

It hadn’t even occurred to him to ask the boy’s age, but he realized now, if he planned on doing anything beyond playing the part of the friendly new neighbor, he’d need to know.

Not that he felt guilty, but he did have _some_ ethics and morals. Using his _allure_ on anyone underage was rather, distasteful in his mind, though he knew plenty of vamps who had no such qualms.

He winced as he remembered the one he’d encountered who went by the initials GG, and considered any and all humans to be beneath him, fully prepared to devour or turn anyone in his path. Thank god that nut job had been caught and detained by the proper authority, over a century back.

“I’ll be seventeen in the summer.”

Ouch, that was a little younger than he liked, but the boy seemed comfortable enough in his presence, even if he couldn’t sense the hint of danger that liked to follow and cling to Percival, sometimes it repelled more sensitive humans, as if they just _knew_ innately what he was.

The boy’s mother was probably one of those types, he guessed.

Luckily Credence hadn’t inherited such traits.

“Try it. If you don’t like it, I’ll finish yours myself.”

He winked at the boy, and downed his own glass in two large gulps, relishing the cold and sweet taste, with just a hint of a bitter after burn lingering at the back of his throat.

Credence took a hesitant sip, and then swallowed, smiling slightly.

“It’s really good. Not as dry or sour as I expected.”

Like wine.

That was what the boy wasn’t saying.

He suspected that part of the reason his mother was such a brutal terror to him was the drink, but alcohol could only pardon so much. There got to a point where it was habit, and purposeful, and no longer out of control.

“I have more if you’d like…?”

Credence nodded, finishing the cider not quite as fast as he had the iced tea, but almost.

Percival bit back a smirk as he whisked away the boy’s glass, in favor of bringing him a new bottle all for himself, and he saw the way his eyes lit up.

“The whole thing? I can have it?”

Percival nodded slowly, letting his gaze linger on the boy’s lips, slick from the first sip,

“You can have anything you want when you’re with me. Remember that.”

*

Credence’s head felt fuzzy, like when he’d been without water for a day or so, and been forced to skip a handful of meals, but different, there was no sharp pain in his stomach, or pounding in his temples. It was as if he was lighter, cheerful almost, just from the hot and cheesy pizza and the cold sweet cider. He’d never heard of cold cider before. Once when he’d been young, ma had taken him and Chastity to a shopping mall to try and gather people’s interest for church, and they’d passed a lady handing out little cups of cider, piping hot, just a free sample to encourage customers into the shop, to buy full sized gallons of the real thing.

Before ma had noticed, he had accepted one, and drank it so fast it burned the roof of his mouth and his tongue, but the warmth bled outwards, making his hands feel less frozen and even down to his toes.

The taste hadn’t been as easy to enjoy, thanks to the burn, but now, as he continued to sip at the bottle Mister Graves had given him, he could see why people drank it during the holidays especially, and with the cold version, could now do so all year round.

It was delicious.

It made him think of the last time he’d been in the man’s house, a few days back and he’d eaten an apple, watched as Credence played the video game alone, and seemed perfectly content.

Why was the man being so polite to him? Was it merely because he felt bad that Charlie was currently unavailable, or just because he was lonely himself?

Credence wasn’t sure, and he knew it would be extremely rude to ask, but before he could stop himself, the words were rolling off his tongue, and he couldn’t pull them back.

“Why do you like me?”

Oh no. He hadn’t meant to ask that at all. How had things gotten so bungled up in his mind?

Mister Graves merely chuckled, and carefully plucked the half empty bottle out of his hand, still wrapped tightly in the bandages which he’d applied so thoughtfully, and with such gentleness he almost hadn’t felt the burn of the cuts.

“You’re very likable Credence. You’re like a puppy dog, or a kind hearted cat. People probably can’t help liking you.”

That wasn’t really an answer.

Mister Graves looked amused, and to Credence’s horror, he realized he’d voiced that thought aloud.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He clapped a hand to his mouth, the sharp smell of antiseptic and his own dried blood filling his nose as he pressed his lips to the bandages, hoping to halt and stifle anymore stupid words that might try to escape.

“Nothing at all. I think perhaps the cider is getting to you, my boy.”

The man was putting his hand on Credence’s knee, and all his attention focused on that one point of contact, and he found himself swallowing thickly, trying to think of something smart to say, something to distract himself from the warmth pooling in his abdomen.

He liked the way the man said his name, but he also liked the way he had called him _his_.

_His boy._

Credence suddenly felt an ache flare up inside of him, and it was nothing like hunger pains. It was a dangerous thing, wanting to be filled and held and touched more, like he knew the man _could_.

“I should go home.”

He finally said, glancing over to the clock proclaiming in bright green letters that it was only a few minutes until ten. Way too far past dark.

But would it matter if he was late again? Surely ma wouldn’t insist on beating him again on top of his new wounds?

Then he remembered with a start what day it was.

Saturday.

Two bottles of wine.

Ma wouldn’t wake up until the alarm went off for Sunday worship preparation.

He gulped.

“If that’s what you want… I’ll walk you back.”

Mister Graves began to get up, and with that movement, his hand was leaving Credence’s knee.

He reached out and grasped blindly for it, his bandaged hand awkward and not quite obeying his brains orders.

In fact, he seemed to miss Mister Graves’ hand entirely, and he blinked, trying to refocus.

“What’s wrong?”

Credence blinked again, and looked up to find the man staring down at him, concern evident in his dark eyes.

They were so dark, almost black, and he’d never known anyone else to have eyes that shade. Brown certainly, plain boring brown like his own, was very common. Charlie had bright blue eyes, and he often found himself staring with a slight burn of jealousy in his gut.

It was wrong.

To want what one did not have or could not possess was pointless.

Sin that had no purpose.

But what did?

What could he do, that would be improper and require forgiveness that would gain him anything?

Looking up, up into Mister Graves’ eyes, he thought he might have had an answer for that.

“Nothing. I just, wondered if we could watch another movie.”

He tried to keep his face calm, open, and innocent. All things he was, and wanted to stay, but maybe, not quite.

Mister Graves was smirking again, and it sent a breath of oxygen to the flames building inside of Credence’s stomach,

“I thought you had to be home by dark? It’s pretty dark out now.”

Credence shook his head at once,

“Not tonight.”

The man cocked a brow, and stepped over to retrieve another movie case, replacing the disc with a new one, and then returned to his spot beside Credence, hand coming back to blissfully rest on his knee,

“Okay then. Sure. Let’s keep going.”

Halfway through the second movie, Credence shifted closer to the man, trying to unsuccessfully lean into him, to try and persuade him without words to put his arm around him, like he had done that first night, playing the game.

“Are you comfortable?”

Mister Graves was asking, and Credence could only nod, heat flooding his cheeks at having been caught.

“I don’t think you are, here.”

The man’s arm jostled around him, and repositioned him so that he was leaning against the man’s chest, while his arm wrapped against his side, fingers pressed into his waist, just poised to dig into his hip, at the spot where his shirt met the band of his pants.

There was still his other hand on Credence’s knee, two points of forbidden contact that was slowly threatening to choke him, to make him suffocate on the fires of his need and sending his heart pounding, thundering in his ears, drowning out the sounds of the movie dialogue and music, until all he could think about was, _‘don’t move, don’t react, be still.’_

“Penny for your thoughts.”

Mister Graves’ voice seemed to bleed right into his brain, and he realized with a start that the man’s lips were right beside his ear, and he gulped,

“Hmm?”

He hummed almost shakily, and he glanced down at the hand on his knee, seeing that the man’s fingers were rubbing slow circles over his jean clad leg, seeming to creep a bit higher with every round.

“Why are you so jumpy? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Credence swallowed again, the words actively avoiding his tongue, and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing away everything that was distracting him.

But that had been a mistake. It only heightened his senses, and made the now three points of contact where the man was touching him that more sensitive.

The hand at his waist was somehow dipping below the band of his pants, fingers grazing over more of his bare skin, threatening to tickle or arouse him beyond reason, as the other one slowly crept up his thigh, stopping just short of full out groping at his leg.

“Credence, my boy, you’re trembling.”

Mister Graves’ lips were definitely no longer accidentally near him, they were conclusively dragging against his ear, and he felt warm wetness tracing down towards his jaw, and he realized it was the man’s tongue, _tasting and licking_ his skin.

The hand on his leg left immediately, and he blinked open his eyes, in a daze, only to feel as the palm made gentle contact with the side of his face, turning his head to lock eyes with Mister Graves.

“Talk to me. Tell me what you want.”

Credence was overwhelmed and his eyes dropped down from the never ending darkness of the man’s to land on his lips, slightly pink and suddenly tempting. They were what he wanted.

On him.

The hand on his face slid down and over to brush his own mouth, a thumb was rubbing on his bottom lip, and he couldn’t think, couldn’t even dare draw breath without threatening to shatter the moment.

It was electric, and he wanted to catch fire, under the heat of Mister Graves’ gaze.

Instead of speaking, he just leaned forward, driven by the mad desire in his heart and the need building inside of him, stoked to life by the cider, or maybe just the man himself, and pressed his lips against the man’s, effectively answering as best he could.

*

The sweetest most alluring creature on the planet currently resided in Percival’s grasp, and he’d just leaned forward and jumped off a cliff he couldn’t possibly hope to climb back over.

Seconds after the boy’s mouth touched his, he swore his own started to water. He couldn’t taste a hint of blood anywhere, but the boy’s lips tasted of the cider and the pureness of _his_ essence.

He moved his hand from Credence’s face around to the back of his neck, fingers weaving through the hairs on the nape of his neck, turning and holding his head closer, moving him so he could deepen the kiss, and urge the boy to open his mouth to him.

“Please.”

He heard himself asking, and he could have bit his tongue. He _never_ begged, never asked anything of his victims, but then again, was Credence really anything like them? Hell no.

Credence seemed to understand, and though he hesitated a moment, he quickly parted his lips, and even stuck out his tongue first, darting it to brush against Percival’s bottom lip, and he groaned into the kiss, pushing closer and also tugging the boy’s body tighter against him, with the arm wrapped around his waist, he gladly sacrificed the hold he’d been forming on his hip and down beneath his pants in favor of pulling the boy into his lap, stunned at how fast he reacted, moving to straddle Percival and more properly kiss him from the new position.

One hand now braced on the boy’s left thigh and the other still held his neck, not painful in his grip but firm, so that he could continue to kiss him until he needed air.

Judging by his calculations, unless he started breathing through his nose pretty soon, that would be about, now.

Credence sighed sweetly, and then collapsed against him, eyes fluttering shut as his body went into oxygen conservation mode.

Percival rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue at himself. How could he be so careless?

He scooped the boy into his arms and practically ran up the stairs to the main bedroom, depositing the boy gently on top of the sheets, before walking back to the kitchen at a leisurely pace to pour him a glass of water for the second he recovered.

He couldn’t help wondering what the boy had meant by how he didn’t have to be home before it got too dark ‘tonight’ as opposed to any other night.

He shook his head and then took the glass back to the bedside, where Credence was just beginning to stir.

“Wh-what happened?”

Percival smirked down at him, and set the glass on the table with the lamp at the bed’s side, before taking a seat a few inches away from the boy on the mattress.

“You passed out. I brought you this, if you feel thirsty, have some, if you think you’re okay, good.”

Credence’s cheeks were rapidly turning pink again, not just from the renewal of oxygen,

“I’m sorry if I did anything wrong…”

Percival shook his head, and reached out to put a reassuring hand on the boy’s closest body part, which happened to be his thigh, and he stroked his fingers around over the thin fabric until he could hear and feel the boy's pulse starting to race,

“Not at all. I wasn’t thinking. I feel I might have taken advantage of you, giving you alcohol and encouraging this sort of thing. You’re welcome to stay here until you feel rested enough to return home. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

It might have been cruel, toying with the boy like he was, but he wanted to be _absolutely_ sure, and not risk tainting his pure soul over something as petty as alcohol.

Credence didn’t quite clap his hand over Percival’s one on his leg, his reflexes weren’t that speedy at the moment, inebriated as he was, but he sure did hit hard for a little scrap of nothing.

“Wait. Please stay. Don’t go. This is your room. If anything I should sleep on the couch.”

Percival grimaced, and looked over at him,

“I think not. I bet the thing you call a bed at home is little more than a cot, am I right? Your family doesn’t seem to treasure comfort. Probably calls it a sin hmm?”

Credence was already nodding, the alcohol having wiped away most if not all of his hesitation to call a spade a spade, and Percival moved back towards him, almost crawling on top of his body before he could stop himself, straddling the boy’s slim legs, and he saw how the boy’s chest started to heave, and his eyes widened.

“What are you doing Mister Graves?”

“Stop that. I think we both know what you want. I’m happy to provide it. But I need you to ask, and stop bullshitting around.”

Percival _needed_ no such thing, in fact, he suspected even without the _allure_ he could probably get the boy to do anything and everything _he_ wanted, but that wasn’t how he wanted to operate. Not with Credence.

“I… don’t even know how to ask for what I want. I don’t even know what to call it.”

Percival licked his lips, just a few scant inches from the boy’s own, and smiled in a way that could only be called predatory, as he’d more than cornered his prey; it was shivering and shaking and yearning for him beneath his body and between his legs.

“You liked kissing me; you didn’t want to stop, not for anything. How would you like that feeling, but over your entire being? Do you want my mouth on you? Say it.”

Credence swallowed, and his eyes locked on the movement of his throat,

“Yes. Iwantyourmouthonme.”

It came out in a rush, hardly a space between the words, but the fresh rush of blood to the boy’s cheeks was confirmation enough, and Percival grinned again, almost tempted to let his fangs emerge,

“Good boy.”

He closed the distance between their mouths, and captured the boy’s in such a rough and fierce drag of lips and teeth he thought he might _accidentally_ draw blood, but even then, his control remained firm, and he would not harm the boy, he couldn’t. He was too precious to him.

Moving back to break the kiss, merely so he could remove his shirt, he could hear the hint of a whine escape the boy’s throat, and he bit back a laugh.

“So eager.”

Credence just nodded, and then seemed to realize what he’d just confessed, so he stopped, stilling his body and grasping at the sheets with his hands, as if afraid to touch Percival.

He tossed his shirt aside, and then turned his attention back to the boy, hands grazing his stomach and tracing the hem of his own collared shirt.

“How likely is your mom to notice if you come home in a different shirt?”

Credence gulped,

“I don’t know… why?”

Percival leaned in to nip at the side of his neck and lick the lobe of his ear,

“Because I _really_ want to rip it off of you.”

If he wasn’t mistaken, and he never was, the boy actually shivered at his words, and he pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before winking,

“Don’t worry. I know I have something similar.”

The boy could hardly protest, and with a flick of his wrist, he’d torn it clean down the middle, leaving two scraps for the boy to shift out of and immediately he moved to cover himself from Percival’s curious and hungry gaze, halted only by the sight of a handful of silvery scars marring his pale skin, to which his only reaction was to lean down and put his mouth on them, kissing them as tenderly as he could, feeling the boy writhing beneath his touch.

“There’s more, on my back.”

Credence gasped out, sounding intensely out of breath.

Judging by the growing lump in his pants, he was very much enjoying himself, and Percival let out a sigh, a huff of warm air against the boy’s skin, before reaching down to palm said erection, ripping another gasp out of the boy’s mouth.

“Mister Graves! You can’t! I can’t…”

“What’s that now? I seem to recall saying... anything. I meant it. You can have _anything_.”

He straightened up to roll his hips against the boy’s groin, and he watched in delight as his head fell back, eyes closing automatically as he sighed in obvious pleasure.

“Please, I’ve never… I haven’t even…”

Percival exhaled slowly, trying to ignore just how delicious the air tasted with an aroused and virginal human at his mercy.

“Okay. No worries. I’ll slow down. But these pants have got to go.”

*

Credence was literally on fire, and his skin was surely about to turn to ash beneath Mister Graves’ hands, for every place he touched his body seemed to burn, and smolder, and nothing seemed to shock him, not the marks on his chest and the fact there were many more on his back, nor the painful hardness revealed when the man helped him tug off his jeans and underwear.

He laid back down against the bed, flat as he could make himself and tried to ignore the way that one piece of his body seemed to rebel so strongly, almost straight up, slowly curving down towards his stomach.

Mister Graves had one too of course, and Credence decided if he couldn’t ignore his own body, he’d stare at the man’s as long as he could.

He was so unbelievably handsome, and his skin wasn’t quite as pale as Credence’s but almost. No scars or marks of any kind were visible on the man’s body, and it only made him think perhaps he couldn’t be the devil, he was probably some kind of angel, sent to rescue Credence from the hell that was his everyday life outside of school.

“What?”

Mister Graves was asking, and Credence could only shake his head, a smile attempting to crawl across his mouth,

“You’re just dazzling.”

Mister Graves chuckled, low and dark in his throat, and it made Credence shiver and his shameful hardness quiver.

“That’s one I haven’t heard before. Aren’t you sweet?”

When the man had gotten back up on the bed, he didn’t cover him with his body, as Credence secretly craved, but rather laid beside him, drawing a hand over the length of his body, slowly tracing over skin that he had never even touched or exposed to another soul’s sight.

“Where do you want me to kiss you next?” Mister Graves asked him, his voice fallen to a rasp of a whisper, and Credence was still tingling all over, frozen silent and uncertain.

“Why don’t you turn over, show me the scars on your back… hmm?”

Credence squeezed his eyes shut, and nodded, moving quickly, but the second he laid back down on his stomach, he felt a wave of arousal run through him. There was slight contact and friction from the sheets against his groin, and also the shock of Mister Graves’ hand running down his spine, over his ass and fingers that dipped between his legs, barely teasing over the _most_ forbidden spot of all.

He fisted his hands in the sheets again, and prayed the man wouldn’t mind the wrinkles in the fabric.

“Credence, I’m so sorry you had to experience these. I want to make you feel good, better than you ever have in your life. Would you let me do that?”

Credence turned his head over so he could look at the man, still lying next to him, hand moving over his back again, fingers pausing to caress at every scar he could see.

“Yes… please.”

Credence’s own voice sounded foreign to him, but then again, he’d never thought of asking for such a thing, never in his wildest dreams.

There had only been one such time, one dream that caused him beautiful agony like Mister Graves’ touch and kissing did, and it had been a year back, when he’d first thought he could love someone.

He didn’t realize it wasn’t love per se, more like a crush, but it had happened. There had been someone, a guest teacher at school, and they’d been so far from what Credence had considered a possibility, but he had known _want and need_ for them, until he’d gone to church and confessed it, and gained three new scars that day, upon returning home.

He never allowed himself to look at anyone like that again.

Until now.

Until Mister Graves.

First, the man did put his mouth on his back, kissing and licking at almost the entire expanse of skin, as if he was some kind of piece of candy to be savored and tasted, and then along his spine directly leading to his ass again.

When the man put his mouth to that soft skin, Credence couldn’t help crying out, and arching his back, grinding himself against the sheets, as he felt laughter vibrating through his body.

“Oh my boy, you’re frantic aren’t you? You need to come first, and then I’ll finish you off there.”

Credence didn’t quite understand what he meant, but there were strong hands on his hips, nudging for him to turn over, so he did, trying to avoid the man’s eyes when his still hardened cock bobbed up against his stomach, and he could feel a wet spot against his back, where he’d leaked onto the sheets.

“Mm mm mm, don’t you look delicious?”

Credence blinked down at the man, still halfway down his body, and was about to ask what exactly he meant, when there was a hand on him, stroking up and down slowly over the shaft of his cock.

He was squirming and thrusting his hips unconsciously before he could stop himself, and Mister Graves was purring at him, telling him how good he was, rubbing a thumb over the slick head, and forcing his eyes closed from the blissful feelings coursing through him.

It wasn’t until he felt wet warmth envelope his cock completely that he dared open his eyes to find that Mister Graves was sucking on him, working his lips and tongue against the sensitive skin, even as his hand still gripped the base, and moved in tandem with his mouth.

Seeing the face of god before dying had never been a distinct possibility, before that moment.

As he felt the coil of something so comforting he couldn’t name begin to build inside of him, he curled his toes into the sheets and bent his legs up, trying to push closer, further, deeper into the man’s mouth, so far he thought he felt the head of his cock hit the back of his throat, but the man didn’t stop, didn’t protest, didn’t seem to need to breath but through his nose, Credence supposed, with the last vestige of logical thought, before he felt himself falling, down, and down, pleasure exploding inside of him, and his cock was twitching, pulsing inside the man’s mouth.

“Oh my god…”

Credence could only murmur, and he dimly felt rather than saw the man climb up the bed, sliding his own body against his boneless one, and press a kiss to his lips.

“That was a true delight. Watching you come. Ugh, I could live off that for weeks… or day’s maybe.” The man was chuckling, and Credence wasn’t even sure what was so funny, but he smiled anyway.

*

Percival thought perhaps in the blissed out state the boy was in, he could have snuck a drink of his blood and he wouldn’t have even noticed, wouldn’t have felt the prick of sharp teeth against skin, noticed the way his body felt flush with warmth and further arousal, and certainly wouldn’t have noticed if he licked over the marks, and let them heal perfectly.

It was something he wished he could do. Wanted to rip the boy’s skin everywhere he’d been hurt and lick him until there were no scars remaining.

But that would be far more painful than enduring them the first time, as he had.

New wounds were required to heal the old.

It was a project for another time.

For now, his ultimate goal was giving the boy every last good feeling he could, wringing his body of the final ounce of pleasure until he was crying to make it stop, to have a break from such happiness.

“Can you… can you do to me what men do to women? However you can, even if it’s a sin. It’s all I want.”

Percival tamped down the urge to rail against how surely the boy’s mother had told him anything but the average pairing of two people was wrong, and decided to play it coy, eager to see just how verbal he could get.

“Hmm? What’s that? What do you want me to do to you?”

He dragged a hand down the boy’s side, trailing fingers down the curve of his hip and between his legs, past his softened cock and balls, and further, until he was just teasing the rim of his hole with a finger, and not pressing any closer.

Credence arched into the touch, trying to force him to touch him.

“That. There. I want you to touch me there.”

Percival leaned down to kiss him so hard that it made his lips pinker than his cock had been.

“I’d be delighted to. But I can’t do it without some preparation. You can’t even handle one finger yet.”

Credence huffed out an impatient sigh, and Percival bit back a grin. His boy would rapidly become a sex maniac if he wasn’t careful.

He climbed out of the bed merely to retrieve the lubrication he’d spotted there a few nights before. Oh what horrific things the Brewster parents must have gotten up to before they had to leave town.

Luckily there was no disease that could affect a vampire or any danger from the boy himself, so nothing else was needed.

He popped the lid of the bottle and slicked his fingers up along with his cock at the same time, to save a moment he suspected would be much better spent else wise, and returned to Credence urging him to flip over onto his stomach again.

So willing and pliant, he barely had to nudge him to get him to move, sluggish, but sure.

He wanted to ease into it, so before even touching the boy’s hole with a finger, he kneeled on the floor in front of the bed and tugged his relaxed body down so that he could put a leg on each shoulder, and more easily access it, pressing his lips to the sensitive skin between his cock and balls and then drawing his tongue up to the rim, just teasing slightly.

“Please… more.”

Credence didn’t quite mumble into the sheets, but he might as well have. No matter, Percival’s hearing was more than excellent, especially when focused on the boy.

“As you wish.”

It didn’t take long before the boy was arching back against his touch; begging for two fingers to become three, and Percival chuckled,

“All right, you really do want more.”

Credence was nodding, mussing his dark hair slightly and wiggling his hips, urging himself closer. Percival got to his feet, and then withdrew his hands, wiping extra slick onto the sheets, before stroking his own long ignored cock, and he felt his knees almost buckle. Oh how he wanted to fuck Credence, and he was so utterly thrilled to have the boy want him just as badly in return.

“Ready?”

He couldn’t resist asking one final time, and Credence just nodded again, seemingly beside himself with need.

“Good boy. Hold still.”

The first move, the barest breach of the boy with the head of Percival’s cock, and he was dragging the nonexistent breath from his lungs.

His hands tightened on the boy’s slim hips, and he continued to push further inside, until he could hear the boy starting to moan.

“Touch me, please.”

Percival slipped a hand beneath the boy’s waist, cupping his fingers against the hardening cock, and he stroked him firmly, feeling his muscles flutter around his own cock.

“You feel amazing, you know that? I’m your first aren’t I?”

Credence nodded fervently again, and Percival leaned down to nip at the skin between his shoulder blades,

“What if I told you I want to be your last?”

Credence let out a whine that petered off into a mewling sort of cry, and Percival pulled out just to thrust back in, feeling the boy’s cock twitch against his palm,

“Yes, please. Don’t stop.”

The boy had begun to push up on the bed, arms bent and bracing beneath him, as he was trying to gain more friction against Percival, and he knew, in that instant, he was a goner.

Credence was perfect in millions of ways, and easily the best thing he’d encountered in that century, or maybe two.

“I need to see your face when you come. Hold on.”

Percival pulled out of him all the way, and used his hands on his hips to turn him onto his back, pushing him back up the bed slightly, so that his legs were no longer hanging off and he could gain more traction against the bed.

“How close are you my boy?”

Credence shook his head, chest and forehead shiny with sweat, and Percival could see his cock leaking steadily onto his stomach,

“I don’t know Mister Graves… I felt like I could have before, but then you stopped.”

Percival hummed, and then lined himself back up to thrust back inside of the boy, and he instantly clamped his legs against his sides,

“Yes… just there, like that.”

He couldn’t help laughing a bit, and he leaned down to capture the boy’s lips in a feverish kiss, his hips moving as steadily as he could manage.

“Good boy. Come for me, now.”

Credence gave a feeble thrust of his own in reply, and his cock twitched on his stomach, untouched, but spurting come almost up to his neck in his enthusiasm.

“Unnngh Mister Graves, it feels so good.”

“Oh yes. I know.”

Percival didn’t even bother to correct him again, he rather liked how the boy addressed him so formally, so instead he dipped down to kiss him, before trailing his lips down the boy’s neck and to the cleft between his collarbone and shoulders, and just let his teeth graze over the salty sweat glazed skin, before letting his own orgasm wash over him, and he rode it out on the edge of temptation, not quite biting or kissing the boy.

*

Credence lay still beside the man for almost a good half hour before his leg moved unconsciously, as his body often did just before falling asleep. Dimly he noted that Mister Graves had indeed kissed him and licked him all over his chest, even over places he had no scars, all in the name of cleaning him off, the man had said, words murmured low against his skin, before sleep had tried to claim him completely. He was sure there was a name for it, but he didn’t know.

He didn’t know a lot of things, thanks to his outdated cell phone mainly for talking to friends on the actual phone, and the lack of computers and internet in his house.

Though he usually didn’t find himself feeling bereft of anything, for he knew it could always be worse, he was always being told such, that he was lucky to have a roof over his head, clothing on his back, and food on the table, scant and scarce as it was.

At school he always had a full meal, shitty cafeteria food as it might have been, as Charlie himself had scoffed, Credence loved it.

It was always hot and never lacking in flavor or sugar and salt content.

Five days of the week, he never went home hungry.

The weekends were always harder, but he got by.

Now, in Mister Graves’ bed, he wondered if he could make a habit of that. If the man would let him.

Spending Saturday nights there, away from ma and her relentless drinking, staying with someone who actually liked him, liked his company.

He thought he would do almost anything for it.

“Are you awake?”

Mister Graves was asking, a low rumble in his throat, and one arm lazily resting over Credence’s chest.

“Yes.”

“What’s on your mind? I can almost hear your thoughts rattling around your head.”

Credence couldn’t help smiling at that.

He had many questions. Most important, beyond if he could stay, or come back, was why the man didn’t sweat. Why he didn’t have a heartbeat.

Did angels need to breathe?

Was it why he’d passed out from the kiss?

Was it why every inch of him still seemed to vibrate with pleasure from their…well, he didn’t even know what to call it?

Coupling?

Could angels do that?

“What are you?”

Mister Graves’ arm tightened around him, and he was pulled flush to the man’s front, lips pressing on the skin of his bare back,

“Credence, I’m whatever you want me to be. Saint, sinner, guardian, or soldier.”

Credence couldn’t fight the smile twisting his mouth,

“I think you’re avoiding the question Mister Graves.”

“Stop. It’s Percy remember?”

Credence just nodded.

“What do you want _me_ to be?”

Mister Graves hummed against his skin,

“Oh well that’s a loaded question. Most of all? I want you to come with me, when I leave Vegas.”

A jolt of ice shot through Credence’s body, and he felt fear grip him for the first time since he’d walked in to find ma awake.

“You’re leaving?”

Mister Graves chuckled,

“Of course. The Brewster’s won’t be gone forever. I’ll have to go back home when they return.”

“Where is home?”

“Seattle.”

Credence blinked,

“But I have school… my family… I can’t just run away, I can’t leave…”

“Why not? Do you want to stay here? Til your own mother kills you, by accident one night, when she’s had just enough but not too much to knock her out? Hmm?”

The words dug into him, deeper than any belt or any touch, and Credence found himself shaking his head, refusing to accept that future, that possibility.

“You’re right.”

“Credence…” His name on the man’s voice sounded so different than when anyone else said it, and he was helpless to obey, “You’re special. You’re different. I need you. Won’t you say yes? Come with me… please?”

Agreeing was like breathing. It was a given, a constant.

He didn’t know why he felt so drawn to the man, but he did, as if he’d become Credence’s new center of gravity.

So he said yes.

There was no need to go home, he had nothing left there.

So he stayed.

When Charlie texted him that he would be coming home the next day, Credence told Mister Graves, and he gave him a smile.

“That’s our cue.”

When the man took his hand, and walked him out to his truck, it felt closer to flying.

The scenery passed in a blur, and he fell asleep just as the sun began to rise.

He didn’t notice when the car stopped, pulled over beneath a bridge.

Nor when the car started up again, and it was dark.

Only when they stopped for good, parked at the edge of a forest, and there was a house perched beside the tallest tree he’d ever seen, did Credence blink the sleep from his eyes, and turned to see Mister Graves watching him, a slight smile playing around his lips.

“Welcome home.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello naughty children its epilogue time. with a fair bit of backstory and a dash of more smut. but this is the true ending i am sad to say.
> 
> xoxo

The house on in the middle of the woodland was comfortable, and waking up every morning to Percival’s adoring gaze, hungry kisses and constant wandering hands made Credence happier indeed than he could ever remember feeling. Except perhaps the first time they had ever kissed.

One morning after they’d been in Seattle for about a month, there came a knock on the door, and Percival was halfway across the kitchen, pushing Credence behind him and telling him to be quiet, as he stalked over to the front hallway, and inhaled deeply.

“It’s okay. It’s just us!”

There was a chipper voice, almost musical, and Credence blinked, watching as Percival seemed to relax instantly.

“Ah. My closest neighbors. The Goldstein’s.”

He murmured low, just for Credence’s ears, before striding forward and opening the front door to reveal two ladies, one with short blonde curls and one with dark waves that came down to brush against her shoulders.

Both of them looked surprised to see him, but the blonde was smiling.

“Hey honey. Percy, who’s this? He smells… human.”

Percival’s arm around his shoulder tightened, and he looked over to see the man’s jaw set,

“Mm-hmm, Queenie, Tina, I’d like you to meet Credence. He’s my ward. Er, he’ll be staying with me indefinitely.”

Queenie, was practically beaming, while Tina mostly looked concerned, though whether it was on his behalf or on Percival’s, he wasn’t sure.

Credence couldn’t help asking,

“Are you Angels too?”

Tina blinked down at him, and then looked to Percival,

“What did he just say?”

Queenie suddenly didn’t look as friendly,

“Percy… he doesn’t know what we… what _you_ are? What are you thinking? You can’t just keep a snack like him around and expect no one else to sniff him out… you need to straighten out your affairs. You know we aren’t the only ones in these mountains.”

Tina was tugging on her sister’s arm, as if to silence her or urge her away, and Credence felt more confused than ever.

“I think we’d better just arrange a time to catch up… another day. Good afternoon girls.”

Percival practically growled, and then yanked Credence back before slamming the door.

“What are they talking about?”

Credence padded after the man as he walked back to the kitchen and opened the cupboards to grab a new coffee mug, before pouring himself a second cup.

He drank deeply of it, always black, no sugar or cream, and then looked over at Credence with almost a pained expression. He’d never seen the man in such distress.

“Credence, I need to tell you something, and you must promise me, that you won’t be angry with me. You’re still safer with me than anywhere else you could go. You know I care for you, very much.”

Credence nodded, feeling his heart pounding in his ears, and he couldn’t help wondering if it was something terrible, if he’d made a mistake coming with the man, and leaving behind everything he ever knew.

“I’m not an Angel, or a Demon, though some might disagree… I’m a vampire. I’m just as much like you as anyone else, but a bit stronger and faster. I can’t just survive on food and drink alone. I need, blood. Sometimes a lot if I can’t feed often enough.”

Credence gulped, and couldn’t help backing away slightly, mind racing as he tried to process what Percival had just told him.

He didn’t realize it, but the man had seen his movement, even if it had been unconscious.

“Please don’t be afraid of me. I would _never_ hurt you. I only want to protect you.”

Credence was breathing hard, and his vision seemed to be blurring.

“Mister Graves, I’m not feeling well, I think I need to lie down.”

The formal address slipped out by accident, but he could swear he saw the man flinch, and before the ground rushed up to meet him, he felt strong arms catching his body.

*

All things considered, the boy had taken it… fairly well? Tina would probably have disagreed, but Percival didn’t really care what she thought. She’d never been a big fan of his, ever since she’d caught him purposefully antagonizing a vampire hunter, and he had snapped back that clearly she was too young to understand why it was such fun.

He’d met Queenie first, in New York back in the fifties, and she’d been playing the part of secretary to some big business asshole, until she got bored and decided to go stroll down a dark alleyway, and he ran into her, expecting to find an easy dinner, only to realize she was just like him.

So they’d become a team instead, and worked the city over for a couple years, before moving north into Canada, when she’d finally dropped the bombshell though he’d been hounding her to find out how old she was for ages, she’d long since scoffed when he’d told her he was going on three hundred, she’d been turned nearly three decades before, and turned her sister too when she realized she didn’t want to be alone forever.

Tina was quite angry at her for it, and was trying her best to live as a human in California, so of course Percival went with Queenie, just ensuring she got there and made up, somewhat, with her sister.

Back then, he hadn’t ever expected to find anyone who caught his attention, and trying to be with a human was just asking for trouble, so he and Queenie had fooled around a little, until she told him it probably wouldn’t work out, as she was hung up on a human herself.

She had been forced to watch him marry someone else, tried to protect and keep them all safe, despite being in pain daily as she was reminded of all the things she couldn’t have, and finally, attended the man’s funeral from afar, covered in black like everyone else, but playing the part of a ghost rather than a guest.

Percival had promised himself that would never happen, if he saw anyone or smelled anyone who he thought could become an attachment; he’d turn them or just walk away before watching them die.

Unfortunately, turning someone without their consent, as Queenie had done to her sister, was generally a bad idea, and usually damaged a relationship beyond repair.

Even after eighty years, Percival could still sense animosity between the sisters, and ignoring the problem would never erase it completely.

When he’d encountered Credence, at first he’d planned to just treat him like any other human he’d been attracted to. _Lure_ them in, have a bit of fun, and then feed.

Of course, all that had changed when he’d seen the sort of hell the boy put up with every day, and he’d vowed not to be part of the boy’s suffering. That had been his first mistake.

To say nothing of stealing him away, like some kind of Fae creature in a storybook. There was no going back from that.

Credence was stuck with him, whether he liked it or not.

Percival could only pray, to whatever gods he hoped were listening, that when Credence woke up he wouldn’t hate him too badly.

He sat beside the boy, not quite touching him, merely holding his hand, and gently, so gently, stroking his hair back from his forehead. It was getting very long, almost enough to be tied back, and he wondered if the boy would keep it that way, or decide he wanted it cut.

It had only served to make him even more attractive to Percival, and that was saying something, considering how plain addicted he was to the boy’s company. The only time he really left his side was when he was fast asleep, and he needed to hunt to feed, lest he be severely tempted to feed on _him_.

There was a part of him, a large part, if he was honest, that wanted to beg the boy to allow him to just try it, just for a little bit, and see how he liked it.

Feeding on humans wasn’t entirely unpleasant, and with the aid of the _lure_ sometimes even made it feel good for both parties.

Hell, Percival knew vampires who kept humans as pet’s to feed off them, and treated them like the crown jewels almost.

He didn’t want to do that to Credence. He was more than just a blood factory.

The boy began to stir, yanking Percival out of his haphazard thoughts, and he pulled his hand back, wary of how Credence would react to his nearness.

But he couldn’t help it.

“Percival? What happened? Did I fall asleep? I thought there were other people here…”

He sighed deeply, and nodded.

“There were. You didn’t imagine that. We were talking about something rather important, and you fainted. I’m not sure if you’re dehydrated, or just tired…”

It wasn’t exactly as if he’d been neglecting the boy, but he supposed it was possible he had a bit of cabin fever. They had never left the house, he called in half the boy’s meals and then ordered other essentials and groceries online so they were brought right to his door, and didn’t have to risk going out into full sunlight, if it ever emerged from the clouds.

“You told me that you were something… you aren’t an Angel?”

Credence licked his lips, and then blinked dazedly up at him, but Percival was surprised to note he couldn’t smell any fear, just curiosity and a touch of desire.

He was always amused whenever the boy initiated first contact, whether it was with a kiss or a touch of the hand against his own or on his body, and that time was no different.

“Yes. That’s correct. I’m no angel.”

Credence smiled sort of dreamily,

“What if I wanted you to be?”

Percival squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away,

“I can’t. I am still a killer, even if it’s not always of just humans. There’s no part of me that deserves any less than that title.”

“You’ve cared for me. You’re _with_ me. You… act like you could… _love_ me. Is that a lie too?”

Percival moved so fast he saw the boy’s eyes widen, and he was gathering him up into his arms to hold him close, so close his cheek was pressed to the boy’s shoulder,

“No! Never. I _do_ love you. I can’t stop myself. That’s the only thing you ever need to remember.”

“But I don’t want to be a problem for you… is it very hard to resist biting me?”

Percival pulled back to look at him, and he could see fresh blood rising in Credence’s cheeks, though whether it was from a confused sort of arousal or something else, he didn’t know, what he did know was that yes, the boy just smelled delicious at all hours of the day or night.

“It is as difficult as you can imagine an alcoholic being surrounded by the finest of bottled spirits. Not impossible, but certainly very challenging. But it’s _because_ I love you, that I can resist.”

“What if I didn’t want you to?”

Credence blinked owlishly at him, and then ducked his gaze down towards his toes, long lashes brushing over the apples of his cheeks.

Percival sighed.

He was just so beautiful, anything he wanted, ever; he would be hard pressed to deny giving him.

“You want me to try feeding on you?”

Credence nodded, still silent.

“It would hurt. You’d need to stop me most likely. Once I taste you, I might lose myself.”

He leaned down to press a chaste kiss to the boy’s mouth, and with a hum, Credence shifted closer, parting his lips to deepen the kiss at once, nearly distracting Percival from the entire conversation.

Before things could get too heated, Percival broke away, and rested his forehead against the boy’s,

“You’re sure that’s what you want?”

Credence nodded again,

“I don’t want you to endure the temptation anymore if I can help you… not have to be… tortured by it.”

Percival couldn’t resist a small chuckle, before lifting a hand to cup the boy’s face in his hand,

“You are far too good to me, you know that?”

Credence shrugged,

“I figure, I kinda owe you. You did save my life after all.”

Percival hummed low in his throat when the boy turned his head to press a kiss to his palm, before nipping at the skin with his teeth and then licking where he’d bit. Oh, how dangerous would he be when he was eventually turned? There was no telling.

“Glad to be of service to you my boy.”

*

Credence was definitely still recovering from the revelation about his, apparently _much_ older lover, but when the man suggested the first time trying to feed on him could work better during or after sex, he wasn’t going to protest.

It was those few moments, leading up to an orgasm or after being fucked that he felt the most out of his body, and almost like he could fly if he was asked.

Percival had been touching him and kissing him nearly all over, so that when he finally begged him to put a hand to his aching cock, and told him to just do it, there was little to no indication he’d done anything different.

It wasn’t until he reached up to put his hand on the back of the man’s head; fingers’ twining in his hair, and then when the sting began, it was fairly quickly soothed by the slow licking of his tongue over his neck.

Once Percival pushed inside of him and began to move, he was suitably distracted, and only could focus on the coil of pleasure building inside of him.

The man barely had to touch him to make him come, and he was almost sobbing with the relief of it.

“That’s my boy. You look so pretty like this. I just want to eat you up.”

Credence found himself laughing, a bit breathless, and more light headed than usual, but he suspected it was due to the minor blood loss.

When he finally reached a hand up to graze over the sore spot on his neck, he couldn’t feel any damage, or even the hint of a scar.

As Percival licked and sucked embarrassingly noisily at his chest, clearly doing his best to continue the constant appreciation of Credence’s come splattered chest, he only paused to smirk down at him,

“No marks. My saliva has healing properties. Comes in handy.”

He winked and returned to slide further down Credence’s body, until he was mouthing and sucking below his still sensitive cock to where he could feel the man’s own seed leaking from his hole.

“Oh.”

It was about all he could manage to reply to that, before the dark bliss of exhaustion claimed him.

*


End file.
